Start to Finish
by truthandfireworks
Summary: During DH: Fred wakes up, not knowing where he is and all he can do is hear George's voice.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. We know this. Thank you.

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Fred's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding. He reached up and rubbed his throbbing head. He felt like he had been thrown off a building and landed on the hard, unforgiving ground. The wind was knocked out of him, his breathing staggered. He brushed off his shirt, getting rid of the winkles. He dusted off his pants, and gave his legs a little shake.

He looked up, not realizing he was not aware of his surroundings. He blinked repeatedly, trying to make his eyes focus. Everything seemed to be a black blur in front of him. He balled his hands into fists and rubbed at his eyes feverishly, hoping that they would restore to their regular vision and show him where he was standing.

_In the middle of a war, the last thing you want is to not be able to see._

He blinked again, however his efforts were no use, for his vision did not seem to change. And not until he got frustrated with his vision did he hear the faint ringing in his ears grow louder and louder.

He boxed his ears over and over, shook his head, hoping for the painful singing to stop. Fred's frustration grew overwhelming, he stomped on the spot, trying to make his vision clear and his ears normal.

_I must look like such a fool._

He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that by concentrating pain on one specific part of his body, that the rest would sort itself out. He bit harder as the ringing grew louder and louder. He bit his cheek until he could taste the copper-flavour of blood on his tongue, yet it did nothing in order to fix the rest of his problems.

Fred looked at the ground, which still looked fuzzy and dark, hoping that by perhaps shifting his blood flow, the ringing would stop and his eyes would function normally. Nothing seemed to work, tilting his head to the left, the right, downwards, upwards, in circular motions – nothing.

"Fred?" he heard a familiar voice ask.

Fred stopped squirming and fidgeting, he looked around, hoping to see something other than darkness.

"George?" he asked frantically. No matter which direction he turned, he saw nothing but the darkness.

"Fred?" George's voice cracked. Fred could sense George's quickening.

"George?" Fred asked out into the blackness. "George, what's happening?" He spun in a circle, trying to find where his twin's voice was coming from. "George, where are you?"

That was when Fred heard a strange noise from George. A noise he had never heard before, but knew what it was immediately. A verbalization of the feeling of complete and total terror.

"Fred?" he heard George's broken voice ask over and over. "Fred," George sounded serious. "Fred, this isn't funny at all."

"George, I don't think this is funny either," Fred started in the same serious tone that George used. "I can't see a bloo—"

"Fred, wake up." George whimpered.

Fred looked confused, searching for his twin in the blackness, "I am awake."

"Fred," George's voice cracked. "Fred, please stop." Fred spun in a frustrated circle.

"Stop what?" Fred asked worriedly.

"Fred, come on." George whimpered again. "Fred," he started, and took in a deep breath.

"George?" Fred asked again. "George, what's wrong?" He heard George take another deep breath,

"Fred," George cried. His breathing turned into panting. And then George let out another sound that Fred had never heard before, a cross between a moan and a scream, "Fred!" George screamed.

Fred stopped spinning. He opened his eyes fully, seeing nothing ahead, nothing behind, nothing below and nothing above. George's screaming did not stop,

"Fred, no. Please, Mum, Dad! Tell him to stop, this isn't funny!" he cried. "I am not laughing, Fred!" he scolded. "Stop it right now, you sodding prat!" George's words were interrupted by hiccups and sharp breaths.

Fred's body reacted before his mind had a chance to process what he was doing. His hand rose up to his chest and covered his heart.

Fred froze.

He felt nothing.

He heard George crying, heartbroken. George's breathing was off, his sobbing sounded like it shook his whole body.

Fred wanted nothing more than to be with George. To be there for him, like he had been all his life. Fred's eyes seemed to prick with the sensation one feels right before crying, yet he found that the tears were not streaming down his face. The most heartbroken he had ever felt in his entire existence, and he could not even cry.

"George," he said feebly, hoping that by some force, George would be able to hear him as he heard George. The sounds of George's tears and gasps tortured Fred's mind and body. He wished to simply cry with his brother, feeling the pain that his brother felt full on.

"Fred?" George whispered.

"George," Fred said as excitedly as he could.

"Fred," George whispered again, crying and sobbing. "Fred, wherever you are, I want you to know one thing-,"

"George, I can hear you," Fred said as loudly as he could muster.

"That, Freddie, I love you." George croaked. The spot where Fred's heart used to be ached to feel emotion. His eyes stinging wildly, but no tears escaped him.

"I love you, Georgie." He whispered back.

"Freddie," George sniffed. "Freddie, what," George started. He paused.

"Am I going to do without you?" Fred finished, burying his head in his hands, knowing that, to George, it was just the first of an infinite amount of sentences that he would feel would never be finished.


End file.
